


Non-Zero-Sum

by oneill



Category: Karneval
Genre: M/M, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneill/pseuds/oneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the fic_promptly prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, pointless games</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non-Zero-Sum

"Actually," Hirato said, "there is one more thing, Akari-san."

"What." Akari did not bother to turn around, though he did spare a glance over his shoulder.

"It would appear that I require your permission to achieve orgasm."

"Wha--" Akari whirled, then took a step back when he remembered that brought them face-to-face. "What the hell are you babbling about, Hirato?!"

"Babbling? My apologies. I had intended concision."

"I don't care what bizarre fantasies you concoct for yourself, but leave me out of it. Why should I have to think about your . . . your . . . Just leave me out of it, damn you!"

Hirato inclined his head, that tranquil smirk never once leaving his lips. "You're not obligated to think about anything, Akari-san."

"Then why tell me in the first place?"

"I merely informed you in the hopes that, as a doctor, you might have some insight to offer regarding my condition. It seems I was mistaken." Hirato doffed his top hat and bowed low. "My sincerest apologies."

Akari snorted, but Hirato merely replaced his hat and headed for the stairs. His measured footsteps echoed in the surrounding darkness.

Turning back in the opposite direction, Akari tugged the lapels of his lab coat straight and muttered, "As though that bastard is sincere about _anything_."

 

Akari dreaded encountering Hirato even more than usual, after that. He did not put it past Hirato to seek "medical advice" again--perhaps in front of other people this time--so he braced himself, ready to stop Hirato in mid-sentence should the need arise.

Yet Hirato's manner remained painstakingly professional. He spoke only of the business at hand (Nai's recovery, Yogi's condition, the search for the hybrid Valga), and he made no attempt to touch Akari or even his clothes. Quite the contrary, he made a show of respecting personal space for a change, and stood at more than arm's length at all times.

"Hey, Akari-chan," Tsukitachi said one day. He rubbed the nape of his neck and glanced in the direction of Hirato's retreating back. "Did something happen between you and Hirato?"

"Of course nothing's happened," Akari snapped.

"Whoa!" Tsukitachi held up both hands, either in apology or self-defense. "He just seems sort of . . . I dunno. I thought maybe you'd gotten him in trouble with the higher-ups or something."

"I wouldn't dignify his childish provocations like that," Akari said, crossing his arms. "And just who are you calling _-chan_ , anyway?"

"Ah . . . So! How's Yogi doing, Akari-sensei?"

"The same as before. His condition has stabilized, so we're keeping him under observation for now."

"Good, good. Thanks for the hard work!"

 

At the next Z table, Akari glanced idly to his right and . . . Was Hirato _fidgeting_? Akari thought he had imagined it at first, but then Hirato again shifted subtly in his seat. Seeming to sense Akari's gaze, he looked up, their eyes meeting for a moment, before he looked back down at his projected monitors. The gloved fingers of his right hand drummed the table beside his clenched left fist.

Hirato excused himself as soon as the meeting ended, and Akari had to jog a few steps to catch up to him.

"Hirato."

On hearing his name, Hirato stopped and turned. His hand came up to his chest as he offered a placid bow. "Yes, Akari-san?"

"Are you--Everything's all right, I take it? Excessive stress is harmful to your health."

Hirato smiled and murmured, "Your kind concern is appreciated, as always." Eyes as naturally dark as his made it difficult to tell whether his pupils were dilated. His lowered lashes made it more difficult still. "That said, I believe I can manage. Unless . . . ?"

Akari _tsk_ ed and left him behind.

Later, in the relative seclusion of the Research Tower, the memory of their conversation prompted Akari to slam a box of slides down next to a microscope. A cringe-inducing _clink_ rang out from within.

"Akari-sensei, those are precious samples I brought back from Vinto," Isosa called from across the lab, her tone politely exasperated. "Treat them delicately, ple~ase."

 

That night, Akari's phone rang just as he was about to drop off to sleep: Hirato, of course, calling to confirm tomorrow's return trip to Merumerai. As they talked, Akari heard papers being shuffled in the background.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"Hm? In my office."

"At this hour?"

"I suppose I have been a bit restless lately, but I believe I'm getting sufficient sleep."

"Hn."

"Well, then. I mustn't keep you. Sweet dreams, Akari-san."

Akari hung up and settled back into his pillow. Hirato and his games. He deserved some credit for commitment, at least. No doubt the bastard was getting off on the fact that Akari thought he _wasn't_. Or rather, he thought that Akari thought that. That was to say--

An intrusive image flashed behind Akari's closed eyes: Hirato, in his office, his eyes shut, head tipped slightly back, lips parted, still fully clothed but with his fly undone and his hand . . . Would he keep his gloves on for that? Akari could not recall ever actually _seeing_ Hirato's bare hands, though he could make logical inferences based on Hirato's build, bone structure, visible grooming habits, and work style.

He knew they were long-fingered and likely slender. Hirato would keep his nails and cuticles precisely trimmed, and his skin was almost certainly soft. He worked hard, but it was not the sort of work that developed calluses. Akari suspected that Hirato had never faced an enemy he could not easily defeat. No, he was ever at ease in his own competence, an assured smile never straying far from those lips . . .

Akari growled and flopped onto his side. It was imperative that he got at _least_ seven and a half hours of sleep each night. Any less could result in impaired memory and cognitive function, poor work performance, compromised immunity, even raised blood pressure!

Just what was Hirato playing at? Akari was an SSS-ranked researcher, after all. NDO officers were meant to consider his well-being a priority. He flipped his pillow over and huffed into it.

 

The next morning, Hirato arrived to escort him to the Kuppi hangar, and bowed the moment Akari emerged from his room. "Good mor--" 

Akari seized his upper arm, leaned in, and said, "I'll allow it." His voice sounded a little gruff, even to his own ears.

Hirato's eyebrows rose very slightly, and then his smile widened by the same degree. "My deepest gratitude, Akari-san," he said, his eyes softening into practiced Duchenne crinkles. The muscles beneath Akari's fingers, however, stayed rigid.

"Have you really been--Never mind." Akari brushed him away and strode off ahead. "It's none of my business."

"Perhaps," Hirato said smoothly.

Apparently he intended to play this particular game for a bit longer. And if the thought sent a shiver up Akari's spine, well, there was no need for Hirato to know about it. That would only encourage him.


End file.
